


Brought to Light

by sixxstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol plays no part in this, Feelings, M/M, Matchmaker Sam Winchester, My First Fanfic, Post-Hunt, Short One Shot, but only because he's so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixxstiel/pseuds/sixxstiel
Summary: One night after the Winchester's and their angel finish a particularly grueling hunt, Dean overhears a conversation between his brother and Castiel.  What Dean overhears that night will change the course of their lives, forever.  Whether they want it to or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [oceanbluecas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanbluecas/pseuds/oceanbluecas) for betaing this fic! It would never have happened without her.

  

* * *

 

 

 

Dean pushed past the bodies swaying on the dance floor, needing to get to the bar in a hurry. He was stopped once, twice, and even a third time by women wanting to dance with him, but he couldn’t. Not after having heard what Cas had confess to Sam.

 

 _You’d think_ , he thought to himself with a sigh, _that I’d be thrilled. And for the most part, I am, but knowing…it scares me, too._ He ordered a shot of whiskey from the pretty blonde bartender. The moment it was placed in front of him, he picked it up and downed it. Since the woman had already walked away from him, Dean sat the glass down on the counter and traced the lip of it with his fingertip for several minutes. He sat lost in thought for what seemed like hours before the bartender made her way back to him.

 

“Can I get you anything else?” the blonde asked as she reached for the empty shot glass.

 

Dean pointed to the glass in her hand. “Another of those,” he replied, “And keep ‘em comin’.”

 

“A little early to be getting drunk, isn’t it? I mean . . . ,” she trailed off. When he shook his head instead of replying, she guessed, “Woman trouble?”

                                          

Again, Dean shook his head. “Nah, THAT would be easier to solve.”

 

Leaning against the counter behind her, she framed her generous chest with her arms. “What else could a man like you have problems with?”

 

Dean glanced at her breasts for a brief moment and shrugged. _Seriously? Now I can’t even appreciate a great set of cans? What’s happened to me?_

 

“Listen,” he glanced at her name tag, “Monica, I get that you feel if you let me vent to you I’ll tip better. I understand the game, but . . .the thing is--I’m not one to talk about what’s going on up here.” He tapped his forehead. “It’ll get you a better tip if you let me stew for a while.”

 

Monica dropped her arms to her sides. “Wow,” she said, “Alright, I’ll let you be.” She turned and left, stopping after only three steps. “But you should know I’m an excellent listener. It never hurts to talk to someone who knows nothing about you or the other person in question.” With that, she poured him a double shot of whiskey and stepped away to help another customer.

 

Dean sat thinking about what the bartender had just said. _She has a point. And it would definitely be a good idea to get someone else’s opinion instead of talking to Sam or, heaven forbid, Cas, about what’s going through my head._ He picked up the glass and quickly swallowed the second shot, settling his elbows against the counter to wait for the bartender to notice his empty glass.

 

When she did take notice, Monica grabbed the bottle of whiskey again and walked back to his place at the counter. “We’re not supposed to do this,” she said as she slid the bottle across the bartop to him, “but I don’t want to bug you while you think on your problems. And I’d rather not have you pissed at me for not filling your glass as fast as you’d like.”

 

Looking up from his drink, Dean sighed, “I’m sorry I was an asshole.” She looked taken back at his admission, so he added, “Yeah, I know I was.”

 

“You were,” she agreed.

 

“It’s just that…” he glanced down at the counter, “I really don’t like talking about my feelings.”

 

Monica chuckled. “You could have totally fooled me.”

 

Dean’s eyes darted up to glare at her. “Funny,” he retorted, but after a hesitant silence, he gave in. “If you’re still willing to listen . . .”

 

She nodded. “Of course.”

 

Dean started his tale.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean approached the door of his and Sam’s motel room. He placed his hand on the knob, but upon hearing muffled voices, stopped just shy of turning it.

 

“Sam, I can’t tell your brother anything like that,” he heard Cas say softly.

 

“Of course you can, Cas,” Sam replied. Though Dean couldn’t see him, he knew Sam was threading his fingers through his shoulder length brown hair. “All you have to do is tell him you need to talk to him.”

 

The angel snorted. “Sure, we all know how much Dean _loves_ talking about his feelings.”

 

Dean could hear the sarcasm in Cas’ voice. _Angel’s finally picking that up; wonder how long it’ll take him to figure out when Sam’s lying through his teeth,_ Dean thought, _I bet it’ll only take him another week to realize he’s been lying about . . ._ He shook his head, remembering he was in the middle of something already.

 

“. . . think that I’d be able to tell him any of that?” Cas was saying gloomily.

 

“Yeah, Cas, I do. I think you can tell him everything you’ve told me over the years.” Sam paused for a few seconds. “You need to, Cas. He has a right to know how you feel.”

 

Cas was silent for a brief moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Do you really think if I tell him, things will change, Sam?” Cas let out a sigh of disappointment. “Nothing will change, except the fact that he’ll avoid me more.”

 

“Damn it, Cas,” Sam swore. “I wish the both of you would get over yourselves long enough to admit you care for the other.” He let out a weary sigh. “ _Fuck_ , I’m so sick of this ‘I hope Cas is ok’ and ‘I miss Dean’ or ‘it’s been weeks, why hasn’t he called’.” Sam let the words that he’d been holding back for the past five years tumble from his lips. “You two need to get your heads out of your asses and nut up. If I have to hear any more whining, wondering, or wishing from either of you two dumbasses again . . .” He shook his head, frustrated and angry. Shockingly, Sam raised his voice, nearly shouting, “I can’t guarantee I won’t lock you two in a room together until you both _fucking talk to each other about your feelings_!”

 

Dean was flabbergasted; he didn’t know what had actually been said by Cas since he’d gotten lost in his own head, but it sounded to him like Cas could possibly be, might be, hopefully, just a little bit, in love with him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Dean’s part. _That’s ridiculous though. I mean,_ he let out a sigh, _he’s an angel of the Lord. God’s angels can’t be gay._ Sure, Cas had been God for a short time, telling the masses that he was indifferent to sexual orientation, but . . . _Cas wouldn’t have changed the beliefs God had just so he could be with a man, would he?_ He asked himself. _Nah, I mean, yeah, Cas rebelled against heaven and the angels for me, but rebelling against God?_ Dean shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.” Dean didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until he noticed the lack of sound coming from the room.

 

A second later he heard his brother calling out, “Dean? Is that you?”

 

 _Fuck! This is_ so _not good for me._ Dean released the knob and hightailed it back to his car. Just as he turned the corner, he heard the door open and Sam mutter, “I could have sworn…” Luckily Dean had parked Baby out of sight so it’s not as if Sam could see him sitting in his car.

 

Once safely inside the Impala, Dean glanced around the parking lot as if Sam would just magically show up to talk about what Dean had overheard. _Not that I actually overhead much; I was in my own head for most of their conversation._ He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

 

“Damn it,” he groaned as he slammed his hand, palm down, into the steering wheel, whispering a moment later, “I’m sorry, Baby.” He let his head rest against the steering wheel. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”

 

“No, you shouldn’t,” a voice said from outside the car.

 

Turning to face the intruder, Dean saw Sam. “I fucking knew it!”

 

Through the partially cracked window, Sam asked, “What, exactly, did you know?”

 

“That you heard me at the door,” he answered sulkily.

 

His brother chuckled. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard not to hear you.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Nice retort, Dean.”

 

“Screw you, Sam,” Dean grumbled, raising a middle finger, “Retort this.”

 

“Aww, poor Dean,” Sam mocked, “Sitting all alone in his car.”

 

Dean gave him a hard stare in response.

 

Sam sighed. “Look, if you’re not going to head inside where we can talk about this,” he gestured to the door, “do you mind letting me in? It’s cold out here.”

 

“That’s what you get for running me down without a jacket, Sasquatch,” Dean snapped.

 

Sam stared at him for a moment, finally resorting to his ‘puppy’ face.

 

“Fine,” Dean huffed as he reached over to unlock the door. Sam hurriedly opened it and folded himself into the car. Dean let him shut the door and get settled before asking, “What do we need to talk about?”

 

Sam gave him a droll stare. “Seriously? You’re going to sit there and pretend that you didn’t hear Cas and I talking?”

 

“I didn’t,” Dean replied. _‘Cause I really didn’t hear half of what you two said, anyway._

Shaking his head, Sam asked, “I know you heard what was said . . . ”

 

“I didn’t,” Dean repeated, interrupting Sam, “I mean, I heard a little of it, but if you were to ask me what you two were talking about?” He gave a half shrug. “I couldn’t tell you.”

 

Sam gave a disappointed sigh. “Dean . . . ”

 

“No, Sammy. I didn’t hear whatever the fuck you two were talking about. I heard a few words here and there, but mostly . . . ,” he let out a huff, “mostly I was thinking . . . ”

 

“About what?” Sam prompted.

 

“I dunno,” Dean glanced at his brother for a second before returning his gaze to the front window. “Stuff.”

 

“Fine,” he agreed, “Maybe you didn’t hear _everything_ , but . . . you’re smart. I’m sure you were able to figure out what we were discussing based on what little you did hear.”

 

Rather than replying, Dean closed his eyes. The brothers sat in silence for several minutes before Dean finally said, “I don’t know . . . ”

 

“You don’t know what?” Sam echoed.

 

Dean opened his eyes to stare at Baby’s ceiling, still refusing to look at his brother. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Dean admitted.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam growled, “You two have practically been a couple since you met and now, that you know how he feels, you can’t be bothered to speak to him about it?”

 

“Sam . . . ” Dean began.

 

Sam didn’t let him get any further. “No, don’t you ‘Sam’ me, not after all the hell we’ve been through to get him back, to get _Cas_ back, because _you_ didn’t want to give up.” He slammed a fist down on the dash, causing Dean to wince. “Hell, Dean, you were willing to kill Amara to get him back, and that was something you weren’t able to do before. You said you were ‘drawn to her’, but the moment, the very _moment_ Cas was in danger, you were more than willing to do anything— _anything_ —to get him back!” He paused, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He stared out the front windshield, contemplating his next words for a moment before quietly adding, “You can’t tell me Cas doesn’t mean something to you, Dean. I know something’s there, even if you’re afraid to admit it.”

 

“Fine,” Dean snapped, all of his feeling bubbling up and erupting from his lips, “I love him; I have from the moment he said he fucking _fell_ for me. At that moment, Sam, I knew he thought I was worth it, worth everything he’d lost. Cas . . . ” His voice broke. “Cas lost everything because of me, Sam. I’m not worthy of a love like that.”

 

Sam, at a loss for words, scooted closer to Dean, wrapping his lengthy arms around his shoulders for a loose hug. This isn’t something they would usually do, but right now, Sam knew his brother needed comforting.

 

“Dean,” Sam said after a brief moment, “You just need to talk to him. That’s it. You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just talk. Let everything be out in the open.”

 

Dean pulled back from his brother. “I can’t. Not right now, not like this.” He motioned to the tears shimmering on his cheeks. “I can’t let him see me broken, not again. He’s seen me broken so many times . . . ,” he sobbed, “I know it hurts him every time . . . I can’t hurt him again.”

 

“Then when, Dean?” Sam quietly asked. “If you don’t do it now, when?”

 

Dean pulled away from his brother completely. He sat back in his seat, wiped away the tears streaming down his face and shook his head. “Just . . . just give me a moment, ok?”

 

“Of course, Dean.” Sam sat silently in the passenger seat. The _tick tick tick_ of the second hand on Dean’s watch could be heard with each passing second, filling the quiet of the Impala’s cabin. He focused on Dean’s shallow breathing to combat the stillness. Sam placed his hands flat against the bench seat, feeling the crisp chill of the leather biting into his palms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean inhale deeply and clench his jaw, as if trying to build up courage. He looked out the passenger window to the still parking lot around them, the small town’s inhabitants having abandoned the area in search of warmer weather. His breath formed miniature clouds in front of him as it hit the cold air. The rustling of a plastic bag sounded as it went by with the breeze, rolling over and over itself until it was out of sight.

 

Sam turned to face his brother. “Do you want me to go get Cas?”

 

Dean nodded.

 

“Alright, I’ll go grab him,” Sam said, opening the door and stepping out of the car. Prior to shutting the door, he questioned hesitantly, “You’ll still be here when Cas comes, right?”

 

Again, Dean nodded.

 

“You’re not gonna take off on him, right? Because if you are . . . ”

 

“I’m not gonna take off,” Dean promised.

 

“Ok,” Sam said, closing the door.

 

Dean watched his little brother disappear around the corner of the motel. _Ok, Dean, you can do this. All you have to do is talk. Sammy said no decisions had to be made. I don’t have to decide whether I want to try to change our relationship right this minute. I just have to discuss how I feel . . . with Cas . . ._

 

Realization set in.

 

 _Oh shit! How the fuck am I going to do this?_ _I can’t tell Cas that I love him. That’s too freaking weird. And what if that’s not what Cas was telling Sam? What if Cas told him that he’d noticed I was starting to act differently? What if Cas told Sam that he thought I had feelings for him and wasn’t sure how to tell me that he didn’t feel the same way?_ His thoughts were going a mile a minute, and they probably would have kept going, but a knock on the window interrupted the endless stream of panic.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’s deep voice made its way through the crack in the window.

 

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said, gulping.

 

“May I?” Cas asked, gesturing to the door.

 

“Sure,” Dean shrugged.

 

_Good going, Winchester, now he’s gonna think you don’t wanna actually talk._

 

“I mean, of course,” Dean hurriedly corrected.

 

Cas opened the door with a squeak and climbed in. He shut the door as carefully as he could before he made himself comfortable. “Sam said you wanted to talk to me?”

 

Dean nodded but had trouble bringing himself to speak..

 

Cas tried again, gently prompting, “What did you want to speak with me about?”

 

“Uh . . . ” _Quick, Winchester, make something up._ “I was just wondering if you and Sam had eaten?”

 

Dean groaned internally. _What a pansy, Winchester. You’re such a dumbass. Why couldn’t you have just said that you wanted him to know that you were in love with him . . ._ He glanced at the angel. _Oh fuck, he’s talking . . . and I’m not listening._

“ . . . under the impression it was important,” Cas finished.

 

“Nah, I told Sammy it wasn’t important. Sorry he freaked you out,” Dean apologized.

 

“It’s quite alright,” the angel replied. Neither of them spoke as Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat, unintentionally making it clear that there was something else on his mind.

 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Cas attempted.

 

“I’m sure,” Dean answered. He gestured up the road. “I think I’m gonna go grab a beer up the road at the bar . . . ”

 

He let the unspoken _I’m done talking_ hang in the air.

 

“Of course, Dean.” Cas opened the door and got out. “I’ll speak with you later, then?”

 

“Yep, later.”

 

“Alright, Dean.” Cas smiled as he pushed the door shut.

 

Dean waited until Cas disappeared around the building before starting the Impala up. He steered her towards the bar.

 

* * *

 

 

“. . . and that brings us to the here and now,” Dean concluded.

 

Monica stared at him, eyes wide in shock. “You asked him if they’d eaten and then you ditched him to come here?” she summarized.

 

“Yes,” he agreed. “But when you put it that way . . . it sounds like a dick move.”

 

“Ya think?” she shot at him.

 

“Well, what in the hell was I supposed to do?”

 

“You should have told ‘Cas’ the truth. That you love him, that you think he feels the same way, and then you should have told him you’re willing to do whatever was necessary to work it out. If that means a day away from Sam, then you’ll do it. If it means that you and he went to dinner and took a stroll down by the freaking water, holding hands, singing ‘I Knew I Loved You’, you’d do it.”

 

“’I Knew I Loved You’?” he repeated, disgust evident in his tone.

 

“Out of all of that, _that’s_ what you chose to remember?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

 

“Well, yeah, I mean, it’s not my type of music . . .”

 

“Fine, then whatever your type of music is. ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You’, ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’, ‘Wasn’t Expecting That’, whatever. But, yeah. You totally fucked up and you should head back there.” Monica stared at him, unflinching. When he made no move to leave she tacked on, “ _Right now_.”

 

Dean started to reply, but his phone rang. “Sorry,” he said, glancing at the caller ID. “Shit, it’s my brother, and this isn’t the first time he’s tried to call me. I need to take this.” She nodded and Dean answered the call. “Heya, Sammy.”

 

“What the fuck did you do to Cas?!” his brother barked over the line, his tone vehemently angry.

 

“What? Sam, calm down.”

 

“Seriously, Dean! What the _fuck_ did you _do_?!” his brother snapped again, his voice emitting loudly from the small speaker.

 

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean gestured to the side exit and Monica nodded, waving in acknowledgement. He pushed the door open and stepped outside into the fresh air. “Sam--”

 

Sam interrupted. “No, fuck you, Dean. You told me that you were going to talk to him, that you were going to tell him how you felt, so, when I came back here, I told him i was glad that you two were finally going to have everything out in the open. Then, _then_ , he comes back not six minutes later telling me that you said you wanted to know if we had eaten! And _then_ ,” he growled, “you fucking tune him out while he’s answering you and don’t acknowledge anything he said!”

 

Dean let out a shaky breath. “Sam, I’m sorry. I just . . . I can’t do it. I couldn’t tell him I’m in love with him. I . . . I need more time.”

 

“Why the hell do you need more time?” Sam hissed. “You’ve known for years that you were in love with him.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean acknowledged, “but I’ve only known for like an hour and a half that he’s in love with me.”

 

 _Shit, I just admitted that I knew what they were talking about_.

 

“Ah-ha!” Sam declared. “You _did_ know what we were talking about!”

 

“Yeah. I figured it out when you kept trying to get me to talk to him,” Dean tried to convince him, “I knew there had to be a reason you wanted me to talk to him about my feelings.”

 

“Maybe I just wanted you to stop being so whiny about not hearing from him all the fucking time.”

 

“Sure, ‘cause that would make total sense.”

 

“Pssh, whatever,” Sam snorted, “Just fucking talk to him when you get back.”

 

“Quit telling me what to do.”

 

“I’ll quit telling you what to do when you actually do something that you should be doing.”

 

“You realize that made no fucking sense either, right?”

 

“Shut up, jerk.”

 

“You shut up, bitch.”

 

The brothers were silent for a few moments until Sam finally piped up. “So, are you going to talk to him when you get back?”

 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I really should.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, “then I’ll make sure I’m out.”

 

Dean was quiet for a second before asking, “Out like ‘asleep’? Or out like ‘out of the room’?”

 

“I’m getting my own room, Dean. You and Cas will have a lot to talk about.”

 

“But,” Dean gulped, “you said we wouldn’t be making decisions or anything tonight.”

 

“So just because you aren’t making decisions doesn’t mean you won’t have a lot to discuss. You both still need to tell the other how you feel. And, knowing you like I do, it’s gonna take at least an hour’s worth of drinking before you’re anywhere near ready to talk about your feelings, and then it’ll be another half hour with you babbling about angels and humans not allowed to be together, and _then_ another twenty minutes of Cas trying to tell you how god actually feels about it. Add on another hour to an hour and a half of you crying to Cas about being sorry that you’ve taken so long to admit that you loved him. Then add another fifteen minutes of you trying to kiss Cas and twenty minutes of him telling you to wait until you’re sober . . .”

 

Dean huffed, interrupting Sam’s know-it-all rambling, “If you know how it’s going to go then why bother making us have the conversation?”

 

“Because you both need to hear it from the other,” Sam explained, “Besides, do you really want _me_ to be the one who started your guys’ relationship and not the two of you?”

 

“I guess not,” Dean answered in a small voice.

 

“Good. So I can tell Cas to expect you in about ten minutes, right?”

 

“I guess,” Dean replied, “but would you . . .”

 

Sam disconnected the call.

 

Dean headed back inside to take care of his tab and leave a _very_ decent tip for Monica, who was down at the other end of the bar. He caught her eye, pointed at the counter, and waved towards the door. Monica acknowledged him with a nod. Dean made his way back across the dance floor being stopped, yet again, by several women wanting to dance with him. It took him several minutes to make it to the Impala.

 

“Great,” he muttered, “Now I’m gonna be late getting there and Cas is going to tell on me.”

 

Dean finally started down the road back to the motel. When he pulled up, he parked in the same parking space he had prior to leaving less than an hour ago. He slowly made his way to the motel door. Turning the knob, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

 

* * *

 

 

Leaving Dean, Cas went back to the motel room the brothers were sharing. Upon entering, Sam stared at him in shock.

 

“What the hell are you doing back so soon?” he asked.

 

“Dean told me he wanted to know if we’d eaten,” Cas supplied, “I think he forgot I’m an angel and I don’t require sustenance. I told him that,” he paused for a second, “I also told him you’d eaten a salad about an hour ago.”

 

Sam continued staring. “What the fuck? Dean told you he wanted to know if we’d had dinner?” he repeated.

 

“Yes, and then he said he was going to go to the bar down the street.”

 

Immediately Sam pulled out his cell to call Dean. Apparently Dean didn’t answer because he hung up and called again and again. Finally, the fourth time Sam left a message.

 

“Dean, I don’t know what the hell game you’re playing but you’d better fucking call me back,” he growled into the phone, “I have absolutely no fucking problem coming down there and dragging your ass back here.”

 

Sam pressed the ‘end’ key pretty hard and then started typing, presumably sending an angry text to his brother. He waited another fifteen minutes before calling again.

 

“Dean,” Sam said when the voicemail picked up, “you had better fucking answer me. You need to fucking deal with this and now.”

 

Again, Sam ended the call, waited a few minutes and called again.

 

Three more times and he finally got an answer.

 

“What the fuck did you do to Cas?!”

 

Cas glanced to Sam, who gestured for him to leave the room.

 

“Seriously, Dean! What the _fuck_ did you _do_?!” Sam snapped into the phone as Cas did as requested.

 

Heading outside, Cas heard Sam say, “No, fuck you, Dean. You told me . . . ”

 

Closing the door cut Sam’s voice off, and Cas sighed, choosing to head to where he’d last seen the Impala rather than rudely eavesdrop. Several minutes passed before Cas heard Sam call to him from the motel room door. He immediately returned to the brothers’ room. He stood before Sam as if he were waiting for judgment to be passed on him.

 

Sam finally spoke.

 

“Cas,” he began, “Dean’s on his way back.” He gestured to his bag that sat packed on the end of the bed he had been lounging on earlier in the evening. “I’m going to get my own room so you two can talk.”

 

“Is this what Dean asked for?” Cas asked, hope threading through his words.

 

“No, Cas,” Sam shook his head, “Dean didn’t ask for this, but he needs it.” He glanced at Cas, seeing the angel’s smile fade, and continued in an effort to reassure, “It’ll be fine, Cas. You and he both need this. And it’ll be easier if I’m not here . . .” Sam placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Trust me, Cas. You’ll be alright.”

 

“He’s going to tell me he doesn’t feel the same way, isn’t he, Sam?”

 

“Cas,” Sam let out a small sigh, “I can’t tell you what he’s going to say. I thought he was going to do this earlier and he chickened out.” Sam shrugged. “I know what he _wants_ to tell you, but it’s up to him to say what he needs to say.” He gave Cas a hopeful smile and left, patting him once on the shoulder before heading out, closing the door softly behind him.

 

Cas sat down on the bed Sam had just vacated, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to Dean. Several minutes passed, doubt rising in his chest, wondering if Dean had lied to Sam, wondering if Dean wasn’t coming at all.

 

And then the doorknob turned.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the room, Dean expected to see his giant of a brother glaring at him. What greeted him instead was a meek angel; Dean stopped in his tracks and opened his mouth. Strangely enough, no sound would come out. He turned to close the door, sending up a silent prayer to whoever was in the heavens listening to him. _Please don’t let me fuck this up. Please._

 

He turned to face Cas and asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

 

Cas tilted his head. “He went to the front office to get his own room so we could talk in private.”

 

Dean nodded. He walked to the second bed, intending to sit across from where the angel was perched. Suddenly changing his mind, he walked right past the beds towards the bathroom, turned, and headed back to the door. Cas’s eyes followed him several minutes as he paced before Dean finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Cas. I—”

 

Cas turned to face away from him and interrupted him. “It’s alright, Dean. I should have known that you would never feel the same way.” Cas released a puff of air. “I told Sam this is how you would react.”

 

Dean stopped his pacing to stand in front of Cas, looking down at him.

 

Cas swallowed heavily and went on, “. . . that you would tell me you—”

 

Cas was silenced by a pair of lips suddenly crushed against his.

 

It actually took him a second to realize that Dean was now kissing him, but once he had, he responded eagerly, ecstatic for just the brief moment he allowed himself to enjoy the kiss, but his brain wouldn’t allow him to continue for long.

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, pulling back, “What are you doing?”

 

Dean smirked. “If you don’t know what I’m doing then you shouldn’t have stopped me. It’s more fun to show than it is to tell.” There was a light, teasing tone to his voice.

 

Cas shook his head in disbelief. “No. I know _what_ you were doing. . . ” he gave a small smile, “but I’m confused as to _why_ you’re doing it.”

 

“Because,” Dean began, “you were saying stupid stuff and I didn’t know how else to get you to stop.”

 

Cas gave him an indignant look. “I was _not_ saying stupid stuff. I was merely—”

 

Dean grasped the angel’s coat, quieting him again, and pulled him close. “I know, but I really wanted a kiss.” He leaned in to close the gap between their lips.

 

Before Dean made contact, Cas pulled back. “Dean,” he murmured, “Sam said you wanted to talk with me.”

 

Instead of replying, Dean stared at him.

 

“Is that not correct?” Cas asked, untangling himself from Dean’s fingers.

 

“Yeah, but . . .” Dean stopped.

 

Cas motioned to the bed. “Perhaps we should sit down and do so then,” he suggested, glancing back to Dean as he settled himself on the edge of the bed.

 

“But I—” Dean stammered, “I just kissed you!”

 

“Yes, you did.” Cas cocked his head. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to talk.”

 

“I was hoping,” Dean grumbled as he sat across from the angel, “that the kiss would make talking unnecessary.”

 

Cas gave a half smile. “I understand, Dean. You were hoping to avoid talking about feelings.”

 

“Yes,” he exclaimed, “Thank you, Cas, I—”

 

Cas held up his hand for Dean to stop talking. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to discuss them, just that you were hoping to avoid it.” When the other man just lowered his head, Cas continued. “I’ll tell you what, Dean. Because I know how hard this is going to be for you, I’ll go first.”

 

After a few seconds, Dean raised his head, eyes shining with gratitude.

 

Cas licked his lips before speaking. “I love you, Dean,” he simply said as he turned away from the other man in an attempt to hide his tears,, “The moment you told me to never change, I fell for you.” Cas let out a long sigh. “Why do you think I did everything you wanted? Every time you called, I answered. Any time you needed something, I dropped everything and did what you needed.” He turned back to Dean.

 

“Even when I was reprogrammed by Naomi to kill you, I overcame it. I let everyone believe that it was because I’d touched the angel tablet, but it wasn’t.” Cas looked into Dean’s eyes, voice softening. “It was because I love you. I couldn’t let them know what you mean to me. You and Sam taught me that my enemies would use what I love against me. I couldn’t take the chance they’d use you.” He lowered his head, eyes staring at the floor. “That I’d lose you . . .”

 

Dean sat in silence, listening to the man he’d loved for _years_ say he was in love with Dean, too.

 

When Cas finally stopped speaking, Dean leaned in and took Cas’ hands in his own.

 

“Cas . . .” he trailed off.

 

Dean took his time to form the words he wanted to say into sentences that would convey exactly what he felt. He’d never been good at putting his feelings into words before and he needed to say the perfect thing here.

 

“Do you remember the night you told me ‘I’m hunted; I rebelled and I did it, all of it, for you’?”

 

Without raising his head, Cas nodded.

 

Dean kneeled in front of the angel and lifted the man’s chin so he could see Cas’ eyes. “I’ve loved you since then, Cas. For weeks I tried to tell myself that I was just grateful you were around to help us, that I was happy I could consider you my friend.” Dean shook his head. “When that didn’t work, I told myself that I did love you, but it was like the way I loved Sammy—a brotherly love. It took me another two months to finally admit to myself that I was _in_ love with an angel; one that could never love me . . . ” he gave a small grin. “I knew I was in trouble the moment I laid eyes on you that day in the barn.”

 

Cas gave him a quizzical look, but remained silent, listening.

 

“From that moment, I knew my life was going to change. I just assumed it was because I’d learned angels were real, not because I’d fall in love with one.” Dean closed his eyes, scared to see the look on the angel’s face.

 

A tear slid unbidden down Dean’s cheek. He tried to release his hand from Cas’s to wipe it away, but Cas just held on tighter.

 

“Don’t,” Dean breathed into the space between them.

 

Cas’s response was to lean forward and place his lips on the wet spot, kissing Dean’s tear away.

 

Dean’s breath hitched and slowly, he released a jagged sigh.

 

“Dean?” Cas questioned softly, “Is something wrong?”

 

Dean shook his head and Cas kissed his other cheek, whispering, “Dean?”

 

“I’m fine,” Dean croaked.

 

“Are you?” Cas asked again, sliding a hand through Dean’s hair. Dean nodded, bumping their foreheads together as he did so. Cas sighed, kissing away another teardrop. “Are you sure, Dean? You’re crying, and I’m certain humans only cry when feeling great sadness.”

 

Dean’s eyes opened, gazing into endless blue. “Nah, Cas,” he chuckled, “We can cry for all sorts of reasons.”

 

Cas squinted, concern painted across his features. “And you’re crying now because…?”

 

“Because,” Dean breathed, eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips lifted in a gentle smile, their foreheads pressed together, “I’m happy.”

 

Cas’s lips pressed to Dean’s forehead and Dean shuddered, leaning into the warm touch.

 

“Yeah. Happy.”

 

 

\- fin -


End file.
